Just a Little Drizzle
by kirby1991
Summary: AU, future, one-shot of Finn and Rachel. Let me know if I should continue. :-)


Just a little Drizzle

There she was, standing in the bathroom. She stood there a good ten minutes before she closed the door, overlooking herself in the mirror. "Don't be crazy," Finn pressured as he watched her. "You look beautiful. And you don't need any of those slim-fit pants I saw you looking at today." His shoulders were slumped forward a little. It helped to make himself feel a _little _shorter, if only for a few moments. He was so used to towering over everyone, especially his girlfriend, Rachel Berry. She stood at five-foot-two, but was a firecracker. Her size certainly didn't match her personality, but it was one of the many things he loved about her.

"You're just saying that," she said with a cracked door. "There is absolutely no reason why that dress shouldn't have fit." Rachel liked celebrating in style - and it was their one-year anniversary. She went all-out, or tried to. The dress was in the process of being bought before she realized she was no longer a size two. The worst thing - in her mind at least - was her becoming unattractive to him.

"I'm not," he assures her. Why didn't she get it? She could have stripped down and dressed herself in a paper bag and he would have been more than okay with it. He takes a small step forward for better acoustics. "I think you're being silly," he says simply. "And I don't need you to wear a dress to our dinner. In fact, we can just spend the whole night here, watching Barbra movies and pigging out on those personal veggie pizzas you love so much. What do you say?"

It was quiet for a moment, which he wasn't sure was a good or bad thing. A moment later, a quiet sniffle filled the air. He rolled his eyes at himself, realizing he probably said the wrong thing. "This party was everything to me, Finn. It was _supposed_ to celebrate our year as husband and wife!" Now she was angry. Scary Rachel was as bad as scary Quinn. Probably even worse. "It's been a great year," he says to the door. "It really has, and I'm really grateful you've kept me this long." He sighs. "But I don't want you stressing yourself over a party. You're the only prize I could ever win." His words were sweet, or at least sweet for him. He was usually void of emotion.

After a moment, the door closed completely and she locked it. She wasn't settling for his sweet talk today. Her emotions were all over the board. Not even her protein shake was shaking off the fatigue. She rifled through her cabinet, dispensing a little purple box. She kept it for emergencies. Poor Finn had little clue what was going on. She ripped it open and followed the instructions, nervously nibbling on her (clean) thumb, not flushing the toilet. He would suspect something, she feared.

She stayed in there for a good ten minutes or so, and he was now distracted with his new video game. She always needed at least twenty minutes to cool down. He was used to this behavior.

The door slowly creaked open, though he could hardly break his practically romantic gaze with the television screen. "Feeling better?" he asked, her not providing an answer. It caused him to frown. "Fine, we don't have to talk about it," he said, glancing at her. Something was wrong. _Way _wrong. He paused and carefully rose from his seat. "Rach?" he asked, taking a very small step forward. That was the "Finn, you've done something wrong" look. He hated that look, but the make-up romantics were usually his favorite kind.

She nervously tapped her palms together. She knew he would probably faint. Neither of them wanted that. "Finn, I need you to sit down." So, he did what came naturally, and planted himself right in the middle of the living room floor. When she said something, she meant it. Especially with that body language. "On the couch," she clarified, admittedly a bit amused by his immediate compliance. He scrambled to the couch, mentally replaying all of his mistakes. "I'll get the stainmaster from my mom," he finally said. "I didn't realize the can was full." She shot him a confused look. Whatever he was referring to was likely irrelevant at the moment.

Carefully, and, in an attempt to be romantic, she sat on his lap, an arm gently winding around his neck. She leaned in, gently placing kisses to it. Uh oh, she was prepping the oven. It was usually when he would get going and she would inevitably find a way to interrupt his fun, so he hesitated on his normal reaction. "What did I do, then?" he asked, knowing full well it _had _to be something.

She smiled to herself, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm pregnant," she said very quietly. His face turned a few shades of white. "I knew I shouldn't have used those one-size-fits-all condoms," he said out loud. She pulled away and gave him a confused look, but decided not to ask why he would even buy those in the first place. She gently cupped his face. "_You're going to be a daddy,"_ she said with a certain sweetness to her voice. She wasn't kidding. She leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, his eyes still widened with disbelief. He kissed her back, a bit speechless by the whole thing.

"Is it…" He hesitated. "I mean, you know…" He looked around. "Human?" She couldn't help but giggle. "Of course it's a human," she finally said, her hands now warmers for his face. "You helped make them." She glanced down at her stomach with a smile. "I thought I would be more panicked about this. I thought…I don't know. I feel like there's so much we could do before this happened. But I'm glad this happened." She glanced back up at him. "Does that make sense?"

He stared at her with a perplexed look. "No," he said, just being honest. "But who cares? We're having a baby!" He soon wrapped her in his arms, his head burying itself in her shirt. "A baby," he repeated. "A real, live baby!" She chuckled at his excitement. "And it's mine this time!" There was a momentary, awkward silence, the kind that's usually reserved for sad moments. They sat there, in their own pure bliss for a while, his gaze never leaving her stomach.

She eventually laid her head down on his shoulder, staring at him as they exchanged a few "I love you's", and a few more kisses. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, finally, before speaking again. "A Finchel Junior," he said with a grin. "And she's all ours."


End file.
